It's A Wonderful Life (On Earth-3490)
by diabolusfetura
Summary: In typical Stark style, Tony's drowning his problems in copious amounts of booze and work ever since his very close call on Invasion Day. When his PTSD spills over at the Avengers Christmas party, though, and he and Steve have it out, Thor reveals that "It's a Wonderful Life" isn't just a story. He can show Steve and Tony a world where both of their lives are better-Earth 3490.
1. Chapter 1

Tony had barely seen Pepper in weeks, and it was killing him—not in a sappy, metaphorical way, either. He was drinking too much and eating too little, couldn't even remember the last time he had taken a shower. It was starting to take a toll, even by Stark standards. The worst part was that it was entirely his fault.

Pepper had been there at the beginning, right after…well, just _after_, when he was redesigning Stark Tower. Everything was fine while he was busy with data and blueprints and speculating about exactly how much Hulk weighed in relation to the tensile strength of support struts because no one—especially not Banner—wanted to see if the other guy felt inclined to step on a scale. Then Pepper had gone away to run Stark Industries, and he felt just how empty his large tower really was without her, even with Bruce skulking in the corners. So big and vast and completely devoid of air and…and suddenly he was back in the Iron Man suit with a nuke on his back and a phone that would never, ever be picked up ringing and ringing and ringing in his ears.

Tony didn't notice he was really falling until he hit the ground. Somehow, he managed to crawl back into the safety of his workshop, the pain in his chest a parody of when Obie had ripped his tinman heart right out of him. He was shaking hard enough to rattle the instruments on his desk as the cold of space seeped deep into his bones and settled there. Every breath was a struggle as the darkness of the cosmos crept in from where it had been waiting for him just at the edge of his vision.

He fought it. He really, really did. But he was just a man without even a tin can suit to protect him. The great vacuum that was his life ripped him apart as he slid a hand across the counter to his phone, the ringing in his ears getting louder and louder until it was the only thing he was aware of, and his mind checked out of existence for a while.

…

Five months later and nothing had changed…at least not for the better. Tony didn't go outside anymore, couldn't even look out of the windows at the top of Avengers tower. It was too much, too big. Only Iron Man left the tower now, the weakest parts of Tony hidden safely in the gold and titanium alloy plated depths.

And those weakest parts of Tony were very, very weak. Even sitting with his phone in his hand waiting to call Pepp nearly sent him over the edge, the imagined ringing feeling like it was vibrating up through his hands and straight into his brain. He took a deep breath as the air in the room evaporated, and he pulled over some scrap sheet metal. A few snips, bends and solders later, and his phone disappeared inside of a metal box—viciously kicked under his desk for good measure.

He couldn't help the frustration at his lack of control. Him and Pepp lately was like watching a romance in reverse: weekends apart, clothes disappearing, until finally not even a toothbrush was left. He was doing everything in his power to push her away when all he wanted was someone to come closer. If it wasn't for his science bromance with Banner—they were really coming close to the next evolution of his armor—Tony was pretty sure he would have offed himself by now.

With a stiff drink and a wry smile, though, Tony would always tell himself it would just be wrong to show off his suicidal prowess when Banner couldn't do the same, himself…rude, really. And Stark was nothing if not considerate, as proven by his generously allowing—inability to stop Pepper from arranging—a Christmas party for the Avengers in his tower. It was the big unveiling of their renovations, after all, and Tony was as giddy as a virgin on prom night whether he would admit it or not.

He even had a new tux and everything…all he needed to do now was keep it together long enough to convince everyone—himself included (hell, _especially _himself)—that he hadn't completely lost it.

Tony tried out a smile as he adjusted his bowtie in the mirror. It looked fake even to him, and he deflated. "Yeah, this is going to be a long night."

He grabbed the Scotch bottle on his dresser for a little liquid courage before heading out to his living room.


	2. Never Drink Darcy's Homemade Liquor

Clint and Natasha were already there, waiting in the living room next to his obscenely large tree when Stark walked in. Even though Tony had been suffocating in loneliness, he was perversely annoyed by them invading his own private misery.

Tony covered it with what he hoped could pass for a genuine smile…until he saw why it was the two assassins were gazing so intently at his Christmas tree.

"Sorry." He said awkwardly, reaching for the ornament with Coulson's picture on it. "I meant to take it down before the party. Didn't want to bum anybody out."

Natasha's grip on his wrist was hard and fast. "Leave it."

Tony hesitated for a second before jerking his head in a nod. It wasn't elegant, but at least it was genuine, the first expression he had had like that in quite a while. Natasha released her hold. He forgot most times that these were the people who had worked closest to Phil.

Clint gave him a swift smack on the back to relieve the sudden silence. "Hey, asshole, where are our presents at, anyway? There's nothing under the tree but what we brought."

Stark looked offended. "If you think my presents could fit under a tree…"

"BEHOLD, MIDGUARDIANS, THE TOKENS OF MY AFFECTION!" Thor burst out of the elevator, even his bulk obscured by the mass of presents in his arms. Clint whooped his appreciation as he and Natasha helped direct Thor over to the tree like they were guiding a jumbo jet in for landing. Natasha had her eye on a package that seemed to be the exact right size for the butterfly knife she had requested for Christmas. It suspiciously disappeared from the pile as Thor settled the presents onto the floor at the base of the tree.

Jane flitted out of the elevator after him, her form a surprisingly dainty contrast to Thor. Of course, Tony was startled and flustered when she went straight up and gave him a little hug and a kiss on the cheek. Not many people were that freely affectionate with him…okay, maybe no one was. Tony was surprised to find that he already liked her.

"Thank you for inviting us." She said with a genuinely warm smile. "I've been dying to peek inside Stark tower. I've heard you've got more processing power than CERN tucked away in here."

Tony's eyebrows shot up as he addressed Thor's back where he was crunched down, studiously arranging the presents beneath the tree. "This is my Christmas present, right? I get to keep her? Because, really, it has been too long since someone appreciated me for my brain and not my sexy, Iron body."

Thor's laughter was booming as he abandoned his post to wrap his arms protectively around Jane in a hug from behind. "Nay, Man of Iron, it would be a fierce battle, indeed, before I would part with her…troublesome though she is."

Jane elbowed him amicably in the ribs.

"Alright, time to give him the booze before I have a barf attack." The brunette who had been lurking next to Jane declared before shoving a bottle into Tony's hands.

Clint's head swiveled around at the mention of alcohol, and his eyes nearly popped out of his head when he saw the outfit Darcy was wearing. Natasha gave him a smack to help him put them back in place.

The little Iron Man charm clinked against the glass as Tony accepted his host gift.

"Spiced Apple Brandy. I made it in the lab. So, it's guaranteed to put a lightweight like you on your ass." Darcy quipped.

Tony pulled back as if she had attacked his very dignity. "Is that a challenge?"

"Hell, I accept!" Clint rubbed his hands together as he looked around the room for some glasses. He spotted some on the wet bar in the corner and brought over enough for everybody as Stark pulled out the cork.

Everyone pushed in rowdily for Tony to pour. Once the glasses were full, though, everyone got quiet, waiting for someone to make the toast that nobody had the heart to do. Steve, Bruce, and Betty silently stepped off of the elevator to join them, taking the glasses that were pressed into their hands. Bruce looked happier than he had in a long time with Betty by his side, but Steve was a little rough around the edges after visiting Peggy—not that Tony had been keeping tabs on his teammates.

It was a moment heavy with sadness and the knowledge they should have had one more drink to pass out—that what they had instead was an empty space where a man with a crisp suit and a distant smile should have been.

Clint blinked his eyes wide a couple of times and cleared his throat to break the silence. Tumbler raised high in the air, he said, "To Coulson."

"Coulson," everyone murmured a tribute before tipping back their drinks.

The serious tone was swept away only a moment later, though, as Clint looked like he might vomit up a lung. He managed to spit Darcy's brandy back into his glass as he gasped for air.

"What..did you just…do to my mouth?!" He demanded between wracking coughs.

Natasha quirked an unsympathetic smile as she pounded his back. "I told you to stop putting things in your mouth when you aren't sure of their origins." Her smile turned truly evil. "Ever since that job in Kiev…"

"Oh god, Tasha, _shut up!_"

Everyone sputtered and laughed right along with them.

Only Thor seemed to appreciate the potency of the alcohol. "This is a truly strong brew, Lady Darcy—though I must say I am relieved you are on no longer melting Jane's beakers. She was becoming most distressed."

Bruce looked horrified at his glass and then up at Thor. "What?"

"I warned you." Darcy shrugged before raising her empty glass triumphantly. "FOR SCIENCE!"

As everyone else clinked their glasses together, Tony tried to tell himself that his trouble breathing was just the burn of the ridiculously strong liquor…that it had nothing to do with the cold of space seeping in through his chest, freezing him from the inside out and making the arc reactor stutter. Tony pushed the bottle at Clint and stepped backwards out of the fray.

Only Steve seemed to notice something was off, standing slightly apart from their celebrating friends who were making another round of Darcy's gut rot. Tony was shivering and he felt like he was falling, with the sound of the wind rushing in his ears.

"Are you alright?" Steve asked quietly, not wanting to draw the attention of the others. Tony didn't seem to hear him. So Steve reached out a hand to grab his arm as the other man stumbled. "Stark?"

Tony seemed to snap back into focus all at once. Total reboot. All systems back online. He shoved Steve's hand away from him, the contact an all too visceral connection to the moment he had just been reliving.

Rogers was actually rocked by the force of Tony's push.

"Don't touch me." Stark said, his voice emanating from the frozen place inside of him. The words were strong enough to catch the attention of the rest of the group, causing them to fall silent.

"Right." Steve said, words clipped. "Right. I should go."

He turned on his heel in true military fashion and just walked away. Steve tried to manage a weak smile for the rest of the group, but it was pretty pathetic. He stopped next to a side table, and without looking back, he draw a DVD case from within the inside of his leather jacket and set it down.

"I thought you all might like to watch this." He said. For a moment, it looked like he might add something else to his statement, but he didn't. He just squared up his shoulders and left without another word or a backwards glance.

The Avengers' eyes fell on Tony who was steadfastly memorizing the texture of his expensive carpet. "I'm sorry, I just…" He took a deep breath. "…Just, have fun without me. I have something I need to work on." He unknotted his bow tie as he made as quick a retreat to his workshop as he could without actually running.

…

A few hours and a large pile of wrapping paper later and Tony still hadn't reemerged from his hidey hole. Natasha was casually twirling open and closed one of the many, many butterfly knives she had received and staring at the two plaintive piles of unopened presents on the glass coffee table—one of them for Steve and one for Tony.

They bothered her. It was the first time apart from Clint and Coulson that she had taken the time and effort to find a Christmas present for anyone. She already had a mint condition Captain America trading card that would never be opened…she didn't need anything else cluttering up her life.

She threw her knife so that it stuck straight up out of the carpet. "Let's watch a movie." She announced to the people with their eyes suddenly trained upon her.

"Like what?" Clint asked, having never looked away from his intense game of Bullshit with Darcy.

"I am curious to see what movie it is the Captain left for us." Thor suggested from where he was seated by the fire with Jane.

Out of habit, Natasha was closest to the exit. So, she reached up from her cross legged position on the floor to snag the case from the table. "…_It's a Wonderful Life_"

Everyone but Thor visibly cringed.

"I do not understand." He admitted. "Is it not a joyous movie?"

"Bullshit!" Darcy called Clint's bluff with a gloating smile, forcing him to pick up the pile of cards. She turned her attention to Thor as Clint grumbled. "It's not that it doesn't turn out to be a happy movie…It's the fact that certain unfavorable parallels could be drawn between the plot and Captain Tightpants' life."

"How so?" Thor asked, truly curious.

"Well…" Darcy gestured with the single card left in her hand as she thought of a way to explain. "Okay, this guy has made sacrifices for other people all of his life. Then, suddenly the bank he works for is going under. So he decides to off himself by jumping into an icy river. He doesn't die, though, because some guardian angel dude decides to show him what the world would be like without him. In the movie, everyone is noticeably worse off without George, but here? The world kind of moved on without Captain America." Darcy shrugged. "It's actually pretty tragic, when you think about it."

Thor didn't look like he agreed, though. "But, my friends, this is an Asguardian tale! Passing mortals from one universe to another is an easy pastime amongst my people." He clapped his hands in excitement. "This is a perfect opportunity to cure what ails both the Man of Iron and our Captain of America!"

"You want to show them a world where neither of them exists?" Bruce asked skeptically. "I don't think Tony would last five minutes without Jarvis."

"Thank you, Mr. Banner." Jarvis sounded pleased.

"No problem."

Thor chewed on his lip as he pondered the situation. "Nay, I do not believe they would do well in such a realm…but perhaps…" He bounded up to collect items from the bar.

Clint peered owlishly around the room. "I know we're all more than a little hammered here," (Darcy cheered to that), "buuuut…are we actually agreeing to this? I mean, obviously we're not above colluding in a little kidnap and interdimensional displacement…but _magic_? All up in Stark's tower? You know he'll have a shit fit, right? The kind of shit fit that only a 'billionaire, playboy philanthropists' with a profound distaste for anything he doesn't understand can produce."

Natasha shrugged, unimpressed. "We may have to relocate for a while."

"Alright, cool." Clint accepted the excuse to put down his cards where he was losing so viciously to Darcy. "As long as we're all on the same page."

"Hey!" Darcy complained. "You fold, you lose!"

"I can't hear you over the sound of impressive magical shit happening right in front of us." Clint taunted as he escaped to the bar.

Clint made it in time to see the last dregs of Darcy's brew make it into a glass with other unknown bits of whatever Thor had found during his rummaging. Clint repressed his gag reflex. He had switched to scotch a while back, but it still felt like the Apple Brandy was alternating in trying to either climb its way back up his esophagus or burn a hole through his stomach.

Thor seemed to be finished at the bar now, though. So, he made his way back over to the fire as he casually retrieved a concealed knife from inside of his sleeve. He used the blade to prick his thumb and slide a few drops of his blood into the alcohol. He frowned as it started to boil rather vigorously.

"This is more of a reaction than I had anticipated." He smiled proudly at Darcy. "You truly have made some fine spirits."

"Thanks, big guy, but uh…" Darcy pointed at the glass that had started smoking in his hand. "I think we're about to have another melting situation."

…And then, of course, the smoke lit itself on fire.

"Stand back." Thor cautioned the others rather unnecessarily as he moved to gently toss the container into the fire.

They all held their breath in covered positions behind the sofas, waiting for something terrible to happen.

Thor smiled after a minute with no reaction. "See, my friends, all is well…"

BOOM! The stones of the fireplace blew outwards.

Everyone was knocked well clear of their original positions as the tower noticeably swayed from the force of the blast.

None of the supporting walls were blown out, though. So, historically speaking, it was really one of the smaller incidents to take place at a Stark residence.

That's what Clint was going to say, anyway, he thought to himself as he shifted the couch from where it was pinning his legs. A fine, purple smoke was roiling out from the fireplace, though, making it seem like too much work.

Maybe he would just…take a…nap instead…


	3. Chapter 3

Natasha Stark was a heart breaker, there was no denying. She was a cunningly intelligent, ridiculously gorgeous thirty-something year old, and the intricateness of her love life could put even Marilyn Monroe to shame…or at least it would have a few years ago.

Ever since the incident in Afghanistan, her life had become complicated in a whole lot of other ways—none of them in the bedroom. Sure, she'd had a thing with Pepper for a while, but come on, that was pretty much fate. Pepper was her almost everything for so long it seemed only logical that Nat should try and put a ring on it.

That had gone…poorly.

Logic, of course, had very little place in the realm of love. Nat claimed that their bromance was just too much for any formal relationship to handle, and they went about their business of staying best friends and soulmates of a different sort.

It turned out that what Stark needed in the bedroom was not expensive champagne and organic cherries—Pepper was allergic to strawberries—it was the fulfilling simplicity of apple pie. And no one was more apple pie than Captain America, _hot damn_.

How she had managed to get him to join her horizontal dance party still mystified her on a daily basis. But, hey, Nat was a firm believer in the fact that inexplicable events happened for a reason—the little circle of light in her chest was a testament to that.

She woke up smiling as she rolled over to look out over her amazing view of the city. It shone with the brilliance of the springtime sun, and Nat knew Steve was probably out there doing something ridiculously healthy like running at this ungodly, pre-noon hour.

Of course, Jarvis _would_ interrupt her moment. "Good morning. It is 9am on April the 1st, 2013, and the temperature is 75 degrees Fahrenheit. Shall I start the coffee?"

Nat groaned into her pillow. "Shut _up_, Jarvis!"

Surprisingly, her sentiment was echoed by a deeper male voice…sexy but so, so, soooo not Cap's.

Nat squeezed her eyes closed. She absolutely was _not _going to look and see who else was there with her. _Crap, crap, crap…No, wait, shut up, Stark! Some guy in your bed proves nothing. T-shirt? Check. Panties?_ She was a little nervous about that one.

…_BIG CHECK. Boom, no infidelity! _She did a little internal happy dance before realizing that she still had to deal with whatever the hell this WAS.

…_Oh god, wait, Jarvis said it's fucking April Fool's day, didn't he. _Even her breathing stopped for a split second before kicking into high gear.

_I AM GOING TO RIP CLINT'S EYEBALLS OUT THROUGH HIS ASSHOLE! _She was in action mode now, springing out of bed and taking the covers with her.

She unforgivingly ripped the sheets away from the intruder. "You, get the hell out of my bed…_Now_!" Nat was hastily wrapping the sheet around her lower half, seeing as Cap's shirt didn't come down all that far.

At least the guy with the mussed hair seemed to be fully clothed, even if he was covered in grease and peering around like he didn't know that 9am even existed. Nat would have been a lot more empathetic under ordinary circumstances, but this sure as hell was not an ordinary situation.

Nat grimaced. "Gah, Clint really went the extra mile with the creep factor, didn't he? You look just like my dad."

Tony locked eyes on the crazy lady wrapped in his cover. "That is just…horrible. Jarvis, can you call uhhhh…" He wracked his brain to try and remember what her name might be. "Can you just call a cab…or Happy. Whatever's fastest."

Jarvis was startled by being addressed directly. "…Miss?" He questioned Natasha, wondering if he should follow her guest's instructions.

"Call Happy." She answered. "Get him to pull into the parking garage underneath the tower. I don't want anyone seeing Clint's jackass friend here leaving."

"Right away, Miss Stark."

Tony's eyes popped open wide, and he looked down at his left hand in a hell of a hurry. No ring, for which he was very fucking grateful because—after waking up in as many strange places as he had after getting blackout drunk—the odds of netting an unwanted spouse were pretty goddamned drastic.

Tony looked like he had just had the shit scared out of him. He put his hands over his face and shook his head like was trying to wake himself up. "Raaaaaah!"

He pulled his hands over his face to run through his hair. "Okay…what the hell is going on here?"

Nat was very confused and irritated by his response. Her face had a very clear 'what the hell is wrong with you? How can you be this completely inferior to me in intelligence and not have accidentally murdered yourself with a spoon by now' expression…Tony was pretty sure he had seen it before.

"Okay then, Beautiful Mind, the way I see it we have three options. One, Clint drugged your ass and dumped you in my bed as a misguided—though highly impressive, considering my security protocols—April Fool's prank. Two, he paid you. Three, you're not interested in money, and what you wanted was a favor only a master assassin could provide."

"Options one and two end with you walking away with a hefty deposit in your bank account and never speaking about this again…happy ending for everyone—metaphorically speaking." Nat smirked at her own joke.

But then she paused, her face going uncharacteristically still. Her actions making it clear that at the surface—the charm and the smiles and quirky movie references—they were just that: superficial. Underneath it all, she was cold logic, the brightest and often scariest mind of the century, and she had spent the majority of her life contemplating the swiftest, most efficient way of ending people's lives.

…It appeared to be a pastime she had very recently taken back up. "Option three, however… Option three doesn't end well for you."

They stared at each other for a beat.

Tony, of course, broke first. The smile that spread across his face was wide enough that it looked like it hurt. He was a little out of practice, after all. "I see what Pepp was on about. We're kind of hot when we do that."

Nat's head dropped to the side in exasperation. "That's it. I'm calling the MK VII, and you're going for a swim in the Atlantic."

"Nonono, wait." Tony jumped to block her from accessing the dresser where he knew they kept a set of bracelets for the MK VII.

"Move, or I move you." Nat warned him casually. She kept walking forward until Tony's hands on her shoulders stopped her. He was still laughing at the situation. Nat's eyes snapped up to his, clearly pissed. No one had treated her this recklessly in a long time. As far as Nat was concerned, she had given fair warning.

She cupped her left hand around his shoulder and her right arm under his armpit, taking a step with her right leg between his almost as if they were dancing the tango. Then, in a move too fast for Tony to comprehend, she crouched, popped him up on her hip, and sent him flying.

Next thing Tony knew, he was lying on his back behind where Nat had been standing, all of the air driven out of him. At least he knew how to land so that his head didn't smack into the hardwood floor. He wasn't a complete amateur after all, he assuaged his bruised ego.

Nat picked the bracelets up off of her dresser and slipped them on her wrists very deliberately, each one perfectly positioned before she spoke again. "Listen, the sassy bitchitude is a thing of beauty—I know, I invented it—but you need to come clean about why you're here before my less warm and cuddly side comes out to play. You may know her—red, gold, doesn't take kindly to bullshit?"

Tony tested out his bruised lungs with a sigh. "Look—you and me—we're the same person."

Nat's sass face looked less than convinced.

Tony rolled his eyes. "Don't get bogged down in the details about who has what genitals here. Maria and Howard Stark were our parents, and unless there are a lot more differences here than I could believe, dad gave us a black eye and a one way trip to boarding school when we were seven—though this timeline looks like they might have waited a little longer to have a kid."

Neither one of them looked pleased about this little revelation, but Natasha's face said he wasn't wrong.

Tony cleared his throat awkwardly, rolling up from the floor to a standing position. "The last thing I remember was the Christmas Party for the Avengers—Barton, Romanoff, Thor…" He punctuated his sentence with a knowing glance towards his other self. "…Copious amounts of alcohol."

"Shit." Nat relaxed out of her subtly defensive posture, hands dropping to her sides. "It's motherfucking magic. _In my tower. _I'm gonna _strangle _those jackasses."

"Hey! They're _my_ jackasses." Tony challenged her. He shrugged with a tilt of his head as he continued, though. "…I get to strangle them."

"Yeah, well, we can at least go and harass my version of tweedle dee and tweedle dum and dumber. They're in their rooms in the tower." Nat gave him an unimpressed up and down look. "Dude, not that I don't think you're rocking the grunge tux, but you have _got _to change your clothes."

"One, never call me…" Tony made a face like it disgusted him to say the word. "Dude." He shuddered. "Two, impressive as both of our asses are, I don't think we're the same size."

"God, you're old." Nat looked put upon, her head rolling back on her shoulders.

"Bastard." Tony quipped.

"Bitch." Nat snapped back at him in a lightning fast bout of banter. "…Look, I have some of Steve's clothes in the closet that might fit you."

Tony drew back, stunned into silence for possibly the first time in his life. He opened and closed his mouth a few times before he could get anything out.

"Damn…I can't believe we got a piece of that…"

* * *

At the same time a few blocks away in Steve's apartment, a much less complicated story was transpiring. The Steve of Earth-3490 had just finished up his morning jog and returned home to find another version of himself standing in the middle of his living room looking lost.

Both of their eyebrows went up in surprise as they surveyed each other.

3490's Steve closed his door as quietly as possible before taking his earbuds out and wrapping them around the Stark Tech MP3 player Nat had given him for Christmas, setting it purposefully on the bookshelf next to his eReader.

"You a Skrull?" He asked, completely unflappable.

Rogers wasn't sure what to make of that. "…a what?"

3490 Steve shrugged. "Good enough. Give me a minute to shower, and we'll sort this out over at the tower."

Rogers nodded.

They were, after all, men of very few words.

* * *

Author's Note: My bestie Liz Long was the technical expert for Natasha's bitchin' hip throw. Both of them are badass, judo ladies. =)


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note:

Shout out to my wonderful reviewer Livi-Lu who is living proof that if I you have a thousand questions and suggestions for me-and I like them-I will do my best to please you. (And yes, Pepper is still a woman in this universe.)

To everyone else who has left kudos/followed/reviewed: YOU ARE AWESOME SAUCE...which is like apple sauce, but instead of apples IS MADE OF AWESOME.

And now, without further ado, let us wrap up Act I.

* * *

Both of the Starks were stepping off of the elevator onto the main floor of the Avengers Tower, clearly deep in conversation.

Tasha's face was lit up like she was imparting the knowledge of the universe upon Tony. "Yeah, of course I do that! Everybody loves them. _Everybody_. I mean, are there really any negatives?" She dipped her head to the side, eyes calculating. "I guess they kind of make running hard, but you've just got to use the proper support. Why, what are you doing with your…" She wiggled her finger to indicate Tony's body from top to toe. "…setup. I mean, obviously riding a bike isn't exactly a breeze, but beyond that I've never really considered the implications..."

Tony just looked at her for a second. "…Agreed. Recreational cycling isn't big on my list of hobbies." He shrugged before catching himself off guard with his own thought. His eyes got wide as he laughed. "I remember this time that I had to—"

"SO." Steve interrupted them before they could physically run into him on their way to the breakfast bar. He had a knowing smile on his face. "What are you two talking about?"

Tasha locked eyes on him, her gaze skipping down to the mug in his hand in a millisecond. She inhaled deeply, eyes glazing over. "Italian roast…Gimme, gimme, gimme!" She made grabby hands, complaining as he lifted it out of her reach—not that it made her stop trying. "Steeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeve, why do you huuuuuuuuuuuurt meeeeee like this?"

"Answer first, then coffee." Steve stated, supremely amused.

Tasha huffed out a breath of exasperation, but she at least stopped flailing at him—even if the man who had stepped off of the elevator with her looked like he was more than willing to take up the task. "We were discussing the various impressive and _highly technical_ aspects associated with…well…"

Okay, yeah, she hadn't had enough caffeine to spin the amount of bullshit necessary to cover up this situation. Steve raised an eyebrow.

"Fine!" She gave in, gesturing with a sharp point to herself and Tony in turn. "We were talking about what an unappreciated hardship it is shoving my boobs and his balls into the Iron Woman suit. He _understands me_, Steve, and if you don't give me that coffee this second, I will marry him instead of you. That's right. I WILL MARRY MYSELF AND FULFILL THE PROPHECY OF EVERY SNARKY TABLOID WRITER KNOWN TO MAN. I will Yoko Ono us _so hard_ that…"

Steve cut off her undoubtedly colorful threats by lowering the cup into her hands. She reverted instantly. "Ahhhhhhh, coffee, coffee, coffee!" Tasha skittered quickly into his side, squishing herself into the shelter under his arm as she huddled over her steaming mug like an addict. Steve's soft smile made it clear that this wasn't an unprecedented event.

"Uh—to be clear—I squish my balls into an Iron _Man_ suit, _not _an Iron Woman one." He reached out a hand to quickly shake with Steve, more than a little rusty at having to introduce himself. "Tony Stark, doppelganger—_is there more coffee?!_"

The Steve from Tony's universe perked up in his seat at the table behind the breakfast bar. "Stark?"

…

"Son of a bitch." Tony looked taken aback as he saw Rogers' head pop into his line of sight. "How'd you get here, spangles?"

Steve chose to interpret that question as a rhetorical one. Clearly he didn't know anymore than Tony did about how the hell he had gotten here, as the expression on his face clearly conveyed. He was mopey and sour over his wheaties.

"There's another one?" Tasha asked as she peered around Cap's arm, setting her now empty cup up on the bar. She quirked her eyebrow lecherously, energized by the coffee. "We could—"

"—Negative, Iron Woman. That statement is _not_ cleared for takeoff." 3490 Steve interrupted her, looking a little scandalized around the edges.

Tasha kissed him on the chin, the only part of his face she could reach. "Yeah…but you know what I was thinking, anyway." She said, her smile evilly pleased by how much she had managed to corrupt him.

The Man with a Plan who had faced down countless Nazis without so much as batting an eye stammered as he maneuvered to change the subject. "S-so, uh…Not skrulls? I've never seen one that could change the features of someone it copies. It's always a perfect duplicate—though we should still eyeball my look-alike through one of the detectors Reed said he had ready."

"Gah!" Tasha's head flopped backwards on her shoulders as she went limp, mouth open in disgust. Steve managed to catch her with one arm before she hit the ground, an occurrence Tasha was definitely taking for granted, lately—no wonder women were always fainting back in the day. It was fun being all pressed up against his muscley self. "I don't _want_ a play date with Mr. Asshatical!"

"Not even for a kiss?" Steve smirked.

Tasha glared at him. "Sorry, Mac, bank's closed."

Steve shook his head, a reluctantly amused groan slipping out. "You know I hate it when you try and use my slang…Alright, what about the fact that Reed still has all of the data about the other universes that he collected from his Bridge machine? Does that sweeten the pot enough for you?"

She thought about it for a second.

"…_Fiiiiiiiiiiine_." Tasha snapped back into her upright position, noticing that her other self had sneaked behind the breakfast bar and was seated at the table with the largest coffee mug she owned…possibly even the largest one in existence. A whole pot could fit in that thing.

"God, we are a nauseatingly sweet couple…" Tony said fast and low, almost unintelligible and mostly for the benefit of the Cap seated across the table from him. Rogers couldn't say he disagreed. So, he said nothing at all instead.

Tasha, of course, could still make out Tony's words. It was a tactic she often employed herself during uncomfortable situations—like every conversation she had had ever with Justin Hammer. Her sass face swiveled around to lock onto him. "Shut up and drink your coffee, you decaffeinated bitch."

"Jarvis," she continued in the same breath, leaving no room for Tony to reply. "Call down to Denice's room."

The put upon AI sighed, clearly having none of her shit today. "The line to Ms. Romanoff is open."

"Hey, Julie, how's your day?" Tasha asked, barely suppressed laughter in her voice.

Beat of silence. "That's hilarious Stark. Really. Never gets old. However, I'm still not changing my name just because you're having branding issues."

"You're lucky I don't sue you for confusing the marketplace, _Rachel_." Tasha skirted Steve's disapproving look before shifting into serious mode. "Listen, though, we seem to have a situation up here. The Steves, sexy dude version of me, and I all have to go pay a house call to Mr. Fat-ass-tical—and don't think I don't blame you for that, Bambie, just because it was you in another universe that _used magic in my tower_."

Romanoff's tone was all business now. "What exactly is the status up there, Stark? Are we dealing with unfriendlies?"

Tony could swear he heard the ominous sound of a clip sliding into a handgun. He raised his eyebrows worriedly, imminently conscious of the fact that he had no suit to protect him here. It was uncomfortably similar to showing up for MMA training without a cup—he knew he was going to get it straight in the dangly bits.

Tasha waved off Romanoff's question. "Too complicated. Jarvis can explain. Just round up Hammer Head and Bird Brain and try to work the problem from this end—we'll see you later, _Brandi with an I_."

The sound of static in the line and the discharging of a handgun round a few floors below them announced Romanoff's departure from the conversation.

Tasha cackled with delight. "The repair costs are worth _every penny_."

Tasha's Steve didn't look like he agreed. "One day—very soon—she _will_ shoot you." He warned completely matter-of-fact.

Tasha threw her hands up in the air, her tone full of utterly dry sarcasm. "Oh. What an unprecedented event." She snapped her fingers and motioned with her arms towards the exit. "Now let's get our fabul-asses in gear. It takes a truly impressive amount of time to decontaminate myself of all of Richards' stupid, and we have things to do later."

"What's happening later?" Rogers asked from his seat at the table. His voice was rough, for the first time prompting Tony to really take a look at his truly abysmal—for an un-aging, serum enhanced Greek god—state. His adorable hair swoop was almost flat—_flat_—for pete's sake.

Both Tasha and 3490 Steve turned to look at both of them, surprised by the question.

Tony's face scrunched up in displeasure—only he was allowed to make Rogers feel like an ignorant clod for not knowing what was going on. He motioned between himself and Cap. "Alternate Universe, remember?"

"Riiiiiiiiight." Tasha said, still a little skeptical.

Steve's face, however, just…lit up. "Hey, Jarvis?"

"Sir?"

"Can you get the measurements for our guests here and have some clothes ready for…that thing…later?" Steve asked.

"Of course, sir."

Tony was absolutely flabbergasted by the exchange. No sass. No snark. And Jarvis was calling someone else sir? Tony was creeped the fuck out by this situation. He beat a hasty retreat towards the elevator, even managing to pry himself away from the remnants of his coffee, that's how dire the situation appeared to him.

All of their heads turned to follow his sudden and inexplicable departure.

"Shall we?" He asked impatiently, holding the doors open with the flat of his palm as he made a sweeping gesture for everyone to enter.

* * *

It wasn't particularly far from Avengers Tower to the Baxter Building…it was just an inordinately long drive. They had taken a discreet car with tinted windows, at least—a fact for which both Tony and Steve were grateful. They wanted to get this done with as little complication as possible, and the massive throng of people who had taken to the streets today made that difficult.

Even though neither of them would admit it, they feared what might be happening back home in their reality. It wasn't so much a fear of what would happen without Iron Man and Captain America. No, a deep and unsettling fear had crept into their guts, clinging to the questions that they studiously were not asking themselves.

Time travel was inherently a big ball of wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey stuff—or so said Steve's new favorite TV show that, when he was loneliest, he had nearly asked Tony…or Bruce or _anybody _really to watch with him.

Tony's thoughts on the matter ran more along the lines of quantum mechanics and the theories of special and general relativity.

What they were both beginning to get at, though, was that no matter how short a time it had taken both of them to travel into the future, their team would have lived every second of those four months by now.

…And they hadn't done anything to rescue Steve or Tony.

The only way that would happen—_the only one_—was if they were out of commission. Hands down, Tony knew that with a certainty born from the visceral knowledge of what exactly he would be willing to do for them—what he _had_ done for them in the past. And, as far as he was concerned, they were much better people than he was. Hawkeye would have rolled out an interdimensional kidnapping plan in seconds—probably even knew a guy who specialized in the area. Natasha would have broken the faces of any officials who got in the way, and Thor would have stolen back the cosmic cube to power whatever tinfoil and chewing gum TARDIS they managed to cobble together.

Tony and Steve should have been out of there five minutes after they arrived—just long enough for a kiss on the cheek and the swapping of squash casserole recipes.

Their life, as it turned out, just wasn't that simple, though…as proven by Tasha's next words.

…

"Son. Of. _A bitch._" She hopped the curb with her car, parking right on the sidewalk a scant second before she was out of the door. The other heroes followed on her heels, and what they saw hit Tony right in the arc reactor.

…There was a giant portal right over the Baxter Building. And, it was only growing, beginning to engulf the skyscraper

Tony's legs went out from under him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary of the last few chapters:**

After 3490 Steve and Tasha find that alternate versions of themselves have suddenly shown up in their reality, they decide to harass Reed Richards for the information on other realities that he gathered with his machine called The Bridge.

When all four of the heroes make it to the Baxter Building, however, they discover a portal situated directly overhead-an all too familiar and unnerving sight for Tony.

**Author's Note:** This chapter was getting pretty massive. So, I decided to break it up. Don't worry! The second part is mostly written, and should be on the way soon. =)

* * *

As soon as Stark started to crumple, Steve reached out to brace him. Tony clung to the back of Cap's shirt with one hand while his other fumbled at the car for a handhold to help him stay vertical. It wasn't working out for him. So, Steve helped him slide down the doorframe until Tony was sprawled on the ground, one leg bent and one leg sticking straight out as he stared off into a headspace only he could see.

"You keep doing things like that, and a girl could get used to it." Tony said, his mouth clearly on autopilot because he wasn't seeing what was in front of his face.

"Actually, it was the Hulk who caught you last time." Steve pointed out. "Maybe he'll keep you as a pet."

Tony looked over at who it was he had a death grip on, his range of vision expanding just enough to encompass Cap. "Oh. It's my Steve." That seemed to add to Tony's agitation. "Just…don't let go?" The vulnerability, the way his statement turned into a question at the end irked Tony even through the frozen weight of space pressing down on his chest. He turned away without waiting for an answer, locking himself back in his own mind.

"I've got you, Stark." Rogers promised before looking up at Tasha. The other Steve had already gone to the trunk of the car to strip off his civies from over his Captain America under armor and put on the rest of his suit.

Rogers figured that if anyone would know what was happening with Stark, it would be Tasha. "What's going on?" He jerked his head to indicate the trembling heap that was so far from the Tony he knew. Even Tasha was looking a little wild around the eyes, her gaze locked in empathy upon her other self.

Tasha's throat was dry. She had to clear it a couple of times before she could get anything more than a clicking noise to come out. "Flashbacks. I got them after I was…" Her mouth formed a word, but it wouldn't come out. She changed tactics. "…After we were in Afghanistan."

The tone, the way she had trouble speaking made 3490 Steve pause in the middle of pulling his jacket over his shoulders. He looked at her, eyebrows high in question as he assessed her state.

Tasha cut him off with a gesture of her hand, palm flat and parallel to the ground. "I'm fine." Just like that, she cleared out of her own headspace and snapped back into focus on the moment. She jerked her chin at Tony as she addressed the Rogers crouched on the ground beside him. "Where is he at right now? Afghanistan? Obie? What?"

"I don't—" Steve started to protest his ignorance. His eyes caught on the spectacle behind Tasha's head, though. It was an all too familiar sight. He looked back down at Tony, lying there just as vulnerable as the day he had fallen through the portal. "…Invasion Day." He finally answered.

"I'm f-f-_fine!_" Tony snapped at them, the potency of his words somewhat tampered by the shivers wracking his crumpled frame.

All of a sudden, Steve felt supremely guilty for not realizing what had been going on with Stark right under his nose. As wrapped up in his bittersweet reunion with Peggy as he had been, he hadn't connected the dots. He'd seen it with other soldiers—mood swings, avoiding teammates, excessive drinking, insomnia—all things that had been happening to Tony. Looking back, Steve realized where these things had stopped being Stark acting like Stark and started being Tony having a problem.

Steve hastily pulled off his leather jacket and wrapped it around Tony, stuffing the other man's less than cooperative arms through the sleeves before zipping it up.

"Stop it!" Tony protested, the body heat from Cap's jacket helping with the tremors but not the attitude. "I'm not your prom date, Rogers."

Finally realizing what was going with Tony had taken the sting out of his bark, though. Steve knew better than to engage, now. "Shut up, Stark."

Tasha turned around to follow where Cap had been looking, straight up to the hole in her reality. She wanted to see what had turned her other self into a shivering mess. A morbid curiosity made her wonder if this would finally be the thing that sent her over the edge for good.

It didn't change what she was going to do—just seemed like what could be her last few moments of relatively sane thought deserved a second of reflection.

Second was up.

Tasha shrugged her head to the side, resolute. "Well…looks like I'm about to add that one to the resumé."

She abruptly turned her gaze from the Baxter Building and stalked towards the back of her vehicle. 3490 Steve was just finishing up, and he grabbed her hand as she reached towards the trunk. Her eyes shot up to his in annoyance.

"Are you ready for this?" He asked her.

She nodded, all business. "Extremis is ready."

Cap sighed, his eyes sliding shut in wariness of how she had chosen to interpret his question. "That's not what I asked." Steve murmured, but he didn't resist as she slipped her hand out of his grasp. Her gaze was already locked on her task.

Tasha took a deep breath in and exhaled long and slow, her eyes closing as she concentrated. The grimace on her face said that whatever she was doing was more than a little uncomfortable. It made sense. After all, Extremis was a raw nerve in her mind that controlled a body she wasn't used to yet. It was like trying to work a robotic arm when the instructions were written in Urdu and all of the controls were covered in shattered glass. Tasha was humming with the strain, the outside world going quiet in her ears as she tried to achieve the same calm that she'd used during practice in the lab.

_Om mani padme hum_ and all that bullshit.

It was just taking too damn long. Meditation, after all, wasn't really her forte. She'd been called many things, but a calm, peaceful individual had never been one of them. And, the pressure of the situation was starting to grate on her.

"Come on, you stupid fuck!" She shouted, raising a foot up to kick the back fender of the car. No one was more surprised than she when the vehicle lurched forward six inches…despite the parking brake being engaged.

"_Damn_…" She went slack-jawed. "…I think I found my power mantra."

Tasha had a moment to be massively impressed with herself before her bones suddenly and audibly began to creak. She gave an agonized, half stifled cry that the groaning in the car seemed to echo. It had all the ominous tones of a submarine taking on water leagues below the sea.

Both Steves reacted nervously to this development. Rogers pulled Tony away from the shrieking metal. 3490 Steve, however, had to stop himself from reaching out to Tasha as she hunched over in pain. He curled his hand into an impotent fist by his side.

There was always going to be a certain amount of danger that Tasha would consider an acceptable risk for herself—a certain disregard for her own life that she would never completely shed. Steve had to accept that because it was the dark, broken part of the woman he loved that made all of her brightest moments shine.

It made her selfless enough to inject the Extremis virus straight into her bones in a bid to make sure that she would always, _always_ be ready to protect those who couldn't protect themselves.

And he loved her for that.

…He just didn't have to enjoy witnessing the side effects. He glared at the street full of people either running away or inanely gawking, his jaw working like he might enjoy a problem that could be solved with punching…lots of punching.

Bits of metal littered the air now, flying out from hidden places all over the car—door panels, wheel wells, the lining of the trunk—anywhere that could conceal a section of the Extremis Iron Woman suit. All of those pieces were converging on Tasha, sticking to her body and arranging themselves like a jigsaw puzzle, some of the pointier edges slicing into her exposed skin as they slid into place. It was a frighteningly beautiful display of the most advanced mind in existence literally at work and on display before them.

Rogers felt like he might owe someone another ten bucks.

He turned his wonder sickened face towards Tony's just a few inches away. "You seeing this, Stark?"

Tony nodded jerkily, his teeth chattering—a fact that worried Rogers. Whether or not Tony was actually experiencing the effects of hypothermia, his body could still go into shock. It was time for them to go. Steve pulled him into a fireman's carry over his shoulder, and sprinted off down the street the way they had come in. Stark barely had enough time or energy to make a quip about the change of view.

3490 Steve spared them an acknowledging nod before the sound of Tasha heaving her morning coffee onto the sidewalk refocused his attention.

Tasha straightened up out of her bent position, beaming as she wiped her mouth. The Iron Woman suit was fully in place now—gleaming, sleek, beautiful, and deadly all at the same time. Tasha was either laughing or crying with relief. Maybe both. "Told you it would work."

3490 Steve saw her cockily raised eyebrow just for a second before her mask snapped shut, the burners in her boots activating to propel her towards the highest levels of the Baxter Building.

Steve bounded after her. He might always be a step behind Tasha…but by God, _he was going to be there_. He blew through the front doors and hit the stairs, taking them three at a time. He faltered, though, when he heard a burst of static and Tasha cursing through the comms.

It had only taken her a handful of seconds to fly face first into the energy barrier surrounding the upper levels of the Baxter building.

"What happened?" He shouted, redoubling his efforts on the stairs.

Tasha shook her head to try and rid herself of the sudden dizziness; it was, after all, a bit more perilous to your health when you were hovering a few dozen stories off the ground. "Looks like Susan finally snapped under the weight of Reed's emotional bullshit…any chance we can leave her to it?"

Steve knew better by now than to give any credence to her words.

Tasha's tone was flippant, but her eyes were swiftly shuttling across the smooth and nearly invisible bubble between her and being able to do anything useful, calculating the force necessary to penetrate it in relation to the collateral damage to the surrounding area. Soon enough, she had her answers.

"Good news: I can blow through it…" Tasha shrugged. "More good news: it would take out the base of the building, and the asshats inside would have a promising career as the flapjack four."

Cap slid to a halt on one of the landings. He had made it as far as he was going to on the stairs. The barrier was inches away from him, Ben Grimm hammering away at it with his massive fists.

Problem was, he wasn't alone.

"Tasha…" Steve's stomach sank, leaving him unable to find his words for a moment.

Johnny Storm was standing just behind the Thing. This wasn't all that remarkable in and of itself. Trouble, after all, came most often when all of the Fantastic Four were together.

No, it was Johnny's expression that got to Steve.

There were—in Cap's experience—men who knew they were going to die…and there were men who knew their own death wasn't the worst thing that could happen.

Johnny fell firmly into the latter category.

Cap raised his hand to the comm. piece in his helmet as he turned away from the sight. "Tasha…Reed's kids are in here…"

_To be continued…_


	6. Chapter 6

Rogers was halfway back to the Avengers Tower when he nearly ran straight into Hawkeye and Black Widow's vehicle. Luckily for him, Romanoff drifted the Jeep to a halt beside them, Clint leaning out of the passenger side.

"What's wrong with Tasha?" Barton asked, brow furrowed.

Tony indignantly jerked his head around from where he was slung over Cap's shoulder. He was a hell of a lot more sassy now that he couldn't see the portal. In fact, Steve's head might explode if Tony made another comment about his butt in reference to Howard's underappreciated sculpting skills.

Apparently, Stark senior's work was on par with Michelangelo.

Tony's eyes locked onto his target. "Did you just identify me by my _ass_, Barton?"

Clint appeared comically shocked for a second at the appearance of an unexpectedly goateed face. "…Right. Doppelgangers."

"We need to go." Natasha called to them, patting the rather large gun slung across the seat beside her. "Banner made us a Sue Richards bunker buster, but he's still back at the Tower working on a Penning Trap."

She threw a pointed eyebrow raise Tony's way. "It might go a little smoother with at least one Stark there."

Natasha didn't wait for an answer, just threw the Jeep back in gear and sped off.

…

Johnny Storm had his nephew balanced on his hip and his niece with her hand in his. The kids didn't look afraid. Maybe they'd gotten used to this sort of thing. Too accustomed to their family always coming out intact.

Torch couldn't lose it in front of the kids. He was smiling and cracking jokes…but the absolute despair was there in his eyes all the same.

Cap turned away from them, hand raised to the comm. piece in his helmet. "Tasha…Reed's kids are in here…"

The news hit Stark in the gut like a block of ice. Frankie and Val were cool kids. Tasha had peppered them with the most annoyingly loud toys she could possibly find since the day they'd been born. It had started out as a torture for Richards, but…they'd grown on her. A little. For short durations.

But, out of the many, many reasons to hate Mr. Fucktastic, the fact that he seemed to have less regard for his children's safety than the woman who would gladly watch his life go up in flames was pretty goddamned high on Tasha's list of legitimate excuses for homicide. As far as she was concerned, Reed needed a reality check right in the balls. Maybe if she was really, really good, karma would let her be that particular instrument of justice.

Tasha jerked out of her slack-jawed, vengeance fantasy as her armor made a hissing/bubbling sound, the edge of the ever-growing portal sinking into the plates over her arm. Her eyebrows went up, interested. Hmmm…

"S.H.I.E.L.D." She said into her comm., moving into the perimeter of the circle skirting between the portal and the Invisible Woman's barrier to get a better look at what was going on. It was a tight squeeze, though she managed to scrape by with just a singed heel. "They have all of those contingency plans—"

"I called them before we came in. They relayed some schematics to Banner who was putting something together. Hawkeye and Black Widow should be boots down in ten minutes with a way to neutralize the barriers."

Half of the Baxter Building was already covered by the expanding dome leading into the negative zone. And, _of course_ it was the fucking negative zone. Tasha had a couple of antimatter holes burned into her suit to prove it. Why wouldn't it be? After all, Reed kept his gateway generator _right there in the same place as his family._

Now that she was past the threshold, Tasha could see the beam keeping the iris open. It was passing straight through Susan's barrier. Stark squinted at it, mentally crossing her fingers that light had decided to act like a wave instead of a particle today.

"Cap, I don't think we have that kind of time." She told Steve as Jarvis nattered into her ear.

"Miss, with the frequencies necessary to cancel out that signal, there simply isn't enough power to—"

"Shut up, Jarvis."

Cap already knew the answer, but he had to ask the question anyway. "You laying down on the wire for them?"

Tasha took a deep breath in and forced a smile on her face before she answered. She'd read somewhere that people could hear it over the phone.

Tasha snorted indelicately. "Hell no. A girl's got to have priorities." She aimed her palms at the beam. "…and I'm getting sexed by Captain America tonight." The force of her repulsor blasts knocked her close enough to the edge of the portal that it dug into the plates over her shoulders, the metal of the suit heating up where it had brushed the line. Tasha snarled out a few choice expletives as she put extra power into the boot thrusters. Power she didn't have. She shut down the HUD and all systems to compensate, but she didn't need any of that anyway. Not now. It was just her balancing on a thread between being melted or exploded.

At least the comms had their own power source. She needed Steve's voice in her ear right now.

"Talk to me, Tash. What are you up to?"

"Oh, you know…disrupting an interdimensional vortex powered by the entire Eastern Seaboard using only some glorified laser pointers that suck the juice out of my heart…Just another Tuesday, really." The sweat was starting to pour off of her, now. The cooling system that protected her from the heat produced by the suit had gone offline with the HUD. She blinked fiercely as the salty perspiration rolled into her eyes.

Cap seemed determined to find a way to help her, though. "Should I not just cut the power to the building?"

...

Tasha had to wait a minute for that suggestion to fully sink in.

"That depends." She answered cautiously. "…On the one hand, I thought you _liked_ New York. But, on the other, black holes _are _pretty bitchin'…"

Rogers didn't have much to say to that.

"Hey, Cap." She struggled to sound nonchalant as she changed the subject. She was starting to shake pretty violently in her extremities; the war between her rational mind and her instinct to jerk away from the intense heat was tearing apart her fine motor controls. "What should we do tomorrow? I think we've earned a day or two off."

Steve's smile quirked to the side—Tasha's favorite look on him. "Given the circumstances, we might need to stay continental…I'd say Venice is off the table."

"Damn."

…

Tasha kind of drifted out of the conversation after that. Steve kept talking, but it was more because he knew she needed it than to relay information. Between the near imminent threat of running out of power, the heat, the possibility of melting into nothing and/or some fucked up combination of all three, though, Tasha was starting to lose it. She could swear Thor was standing in midair beside her.

"This is most disconcerting." Thor eyed the invisible barrier underneath his feet warily.

_Oh_. Iron Woman's sluggish brain responded. _Not crazy_.

"Friend, your Iron Heart is flickering. Do you require recharging?"

"Natasha, Clint—they here?" Tasha asked, her breathing strained.

She heard the slam of car doors in her earpiece. "We're here, Stark."

She nodded at Thor. "Hit me, then."

The God of Thunder pointed his hammer towards the outside world. He couldn't get as much energy that way, but he didn't exactly have direct access to the sky. Electricity began to spark across Mjolnir's head.

_Shit. Shit. Shit. _Tasha chanted as Thor swung the hammer around to point at her. Too late for second thoughts, a bolt of lightning shot across the distance between them. The force of it knocked Iron Woman out of the sky. She slammed face first into Sue's protective bubble and slid downwards, desperately scrabbling at the surface to try and halt her descent. When that didn't work out, Tasha made herself as thin as possible to pass between the ever disappearing space between the barrier and the edge of the portal. It was a close call, but she made it—though perhaps a little more singed across the ass and her right arm than she would have liked.

The arc reactor was powered up, however, and the HUD was coming online as she did a free fall past a few stories of the Baxter Building. Huh, looked like they had redecorated a few floors, getting rid of some of Reed's beloved bachelor junk since Tasha had been there last. She'd have to compliment Sue…assuming they ever found the non-Skrull version of her.

In short, spend enough time falling from buildings, and you'll find other things to occupy your thoughts.

Jarvis's voice was in her ear as she stopped short just a few feet above the pavement. "The nearest body of water is located within central park." He informed her. His sensors had picked up on the extreme temperatures surrounding the repulsors.

Tasha had a guilty moment before she took off in the direction he indicated, breathing a sigh of relief as she did so. Iron Woman was in no condition for any more thrilling heroics. "Jarvis…_you complete me_."

"Shall I inform Mr. Rogers that his services are no longer required?"

Iron Woman laughed as she splashed down, sinking until she settled to the bottom and the chill of the springtime water cooled her burning wounds. "Fat chance. Steve knew exactly what sort of messed up, technological polyamory he was getting into. He's not getting out of this now."

Tasha raised her arm up to check on the integrity of the suit, feeling like she had tied on a couple lead weights, Mulan style. Her eyelids weren't all that cooperative, either. She had to blink a couple of times just to focus enough on the damage to see that it was repairing itself properly. Tasha felt her little tin man heart surge with pride as—exhausted—she dropped her head back to the mud. Extremis was her and Banner's science bros, love child. Without him, she would never have approached the problem from a biological point of view. Of course, now, she would need to look into upping the output of the arc reactor by _at least_ a factor of three—not to mention enhancing the temperature insulation and life support systems. Maybe Jarvis snipe in the early days about preparing the suit for interplanetary travel wasn't that far off…

Visions of schematics danced in her head as she subtly began sinking into the hyper productive phase between dreaming and wakefulness.

The sound of her teammates in her ears was like a lullaby.

"Clear." Romanoff warned them. Barton swore as he scrabbled out of the way of her massive gun, a concussive zapping and then the sound of static in the line immediately following.

Tasha caught only one out of a handful of words from them after that, but she relaxed knowing that they had it covered now.

Cap's voice permeated the crackling signal. "I've got...doing fine…Taking Val and Frankie…Avengers Tower…"

Tasha definitely started to drift off then. Cap's voice had always had a soporific effect upon her, ever since she watched his old movies as a kid to help her fall asleep.

She went out like a light.

…..…

Tasha incrementally made her return to the land of the living, the incessant ringing in her ears pissing her off. It felt like she'd fallen asleep in the suit again after a drinking binge. She was feeling every inch a hangover as she shivered violently awake.

"W-wazit?"

"Miss, I suggest you answer. This is the twenty-third time Captain Rogers has attempted to reach you."

Tasha felt a weird ping against the chest plate of her armor. She moved to brush whatever it was away, but didn't get very far with the violent muscle spasms. Apparently, she had been at the bottom of the reservoir long enough for the water to leech all of the heat from her bones, effectively going from one extreme to the other.

Goddamn insulation. Today was just not her day, so far.

"K." Tasha answered Jarvis, letting the AI connect the call.

She heard Steve's breathing hitch on the other end.

Of course, she immediately thought the worst. "P…portal?" Tasha managed to force out, her heart lurching with a feeble burst of adrenaline.

"It's done. We knocked down the barrier so Reed could shut down the beam safely. Bruce is using a Penning Trap to clean up any leftover antimatter." He paused, approaching his topic carefully. "How are you?"

"Free-z-zing."

She heard Barton go off at her in the background. "Well, then move your lazy ass! I'm knocking perfect shots through forty feet of water. So, you know, _you could try and hold onto one of them, Yao, King of the Rock_. Cuz, for some reason, your suit seems specifically designed to resist my arrows. A less trusting man would be hurt."

Tasha huffed out an indignant breath. "I'm. M-mulan, _asshole_." She felt the same ping just over her arc reactor and grabbed at it with numb, uncooperative fingers. Tasha ended up batting it away by accident. "Ah, f-fuck me!"

Barton's voice sounded closer to the phone as he responded. "Sorry, sweet bottom, that would be too much bitchiness for any one relationship—and frankly, you're not my type.

What do you think, though? You kill yourself by way of stupid at the bottom of that reservoir, and I might have a shot at Cap—assuming we can keep his equally dumbass from drowning trying to save you. You know Phil would swap his mechanical ticker for a threesome in a _second_—and yes, a fucking threesome. I'm not getting booted out of that good time."

Tasha knew what he was attempting to do.

"…I would certainly consider the offer." Steve chipped in.

And, it was fucking working, too.

"I hate you." She managed to snap at Barton without a stutter, a small portion of her fire returning to her blood. "Jarvis, enact the s-safety protocols. I'll save my damn self."

She could hear Hawkeye's smugness even through the phone.

"Shut up." She said as the suit began moving of its own accord, a very nerve wracking experience for Tasha. It registered on an existential level that she was used to driving the suit, not the other way around.

For good reason, too; it was a rough ride. Popping to the surface went easily enough once the repulsors came back online, but then she started slamming across the top of the water like a damn skipping stone. If she hadn't already pre-gamed the puking, living perpetually inside of a tin can would have become a whole lot worse just then.

Tasha flopped face first in an ungraceful heap on the shore. Shaken, not stirred.

Hawkeye kicked her, his steel toed boot ringing out against her titanium alloy posterior. "Five for grace, two for effort, Iron Ass. Now get the hell up! As your Man of Honor, I feel compelled to tell you that you're gonna miss your own damn wedding."

Tasha groaned.

"It's fine." Cap soothed her, cowl off as he rolled her over onto her back. "We can postpone it." Her hands were nervous as they flitted over her, feeling for damage but afraid to touch.

"Sure." Romanoff agreed, completely stoic. "It worked out for Reed and Sue…in the end."

Steve glared at his Best Woman. Betrayal like that on Captain America's face surely warranted treason. Too bad Romanoff didn't care.

Tasha snapped her faceplate up, eyes sparking with outrage. "_Fuck that noise_. I'm not following _any _trend set by Mr. Failtastic." She flailed in the dirt like a turtle on its back before giving up and turning on Steve. "Get me up!"

Rogers heaved a put upon sigh, but levered her up onto rather unsteady legs. Tasha's feet were killing her, but it was no worse than walking around for ten hours in high heels, as she'd done on many occasions.

Barton tossed a toiletry kit and a water bottle at her, which she barely managed to catch. "Great. Now brush your goddamn teeth. No time to change—and don't think I'm not pissed about that. I spent _hours_ sitting in lobbies harangued by women insisting it wasn't good luck for the groom to see the bride before the day. _And_, you flashed me that one time…_I need my eyes, Tasha! _It's in my name and everything!"

Romanoff had her zero sympathy face on as she opened the jeep door to usher them all in. "I offered to go." She pointed out.

Clint jabbed a finger at her like she had just committed blasphemy. "_You _wanted her dress to have pockets. _Pockets_, Nat_. _To hide_ knives in, _for fuck's sake_._"

Black Widow slammed the door behind Cap and Iron Woman a little harder than strictly necessary. "It's. _Practical_."

Steve and Tasha cozied up in the back seat as the other two bickered.

If they were lucky, maybe Cap and Iron Woman would one day be as insanely married as their idiot friends—though much less platonically, judging by their creeping hands.

* * *

Author's Note: So, I'm working on some wedding vows for Captain America. If there's something you would like to see in them, let me know in the reviews! =)


End file.
